Bearclaw Valley drowning

merrick was growing bored.
there had been little conflict in the weeks that had passed, at least not that which he had been involved in. his teeth ached for blood; his jaws ached to tear flesh from bone and gristle from femur.
to crack marrow;
to whet himself crimson for the honor of the bear.
a service in the name of ursus.
"sister," merrick whispered sibilantly when he had found the ghost. slowly merrick puzzled at their relationship; this was his determination of it, an honorific for the she-wolf who had been so dutiful. "it is time to kill again."